


Twisted Little Games (HandsomeJackXOFC)

by WednesdayTurtle



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Helios - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Hyperion, I suck at tagging, Kidnapping, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sexy Times, hostage, sorrynotsorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-05 23:29:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21216833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdayTurtle/pseuds/WednesdayTurtle
Summary: Jack/OFC one-shot (May continue it though if anyone actually reads and enjoys it.) Set after BL3. Jack is back thanks to Rhys not crushing the AI, and he’s now in a shiny new clone body. OC is a siren who knew Jack before he died, and has now found herself his captive all over again....





	Twisted Little Games (HandsomeJackXOFC)

**Author's Note:**

> Just an idea that came into my head earlier today while playing BL3. Haven’t posted to this site before, but if anyone reads this and wants more or another fic (baring in mind anything I do will probably be HJ centric as I’m lowkey obsessed) just let me know. 
> 
> P.S - Sorry if it’s terrible. Fanfic isn’t my usual go-to for writing, but I’m crazy for borderlands. (And HJ...🤣)

My head hurts. It really freaking hurts.

I groan from the intense pain radiating throughout my skull and try to open my eyes, but the brightness in the room is too much for me to stand. Allowing them to fall shut again, I try desperately to remember what happened, and more importantly, where the hell I’m sleeping that’s this stupidly bright? Unfortunately, my brain comes up completely blank.

Wanting to get the tension out of my joints, I attempt to stretch my body out. My attempt doesn’t get far though, as I realise I’ve been restrained at both of my wrists and ankles. _Shit__._

Feeling a rush of adrenaline, I open my eyes and force myself to keep them open as I look around. It’s a white room, completely empty other than the hard, metal table I’m restrained against, and the door to my right. There’s not even any light fixtures above me, just a white light that shines from the entire ceiling, illuminating every single inch of the empty room in a harsh glare. I wonder who or what might be watching me from behind the shield of light, and decide not to dwell on that right now. _One problem at a time._

Having had enough of this bullshit, I clench my fists and summon my siren powers to get myself free, but nothing happens. I try again, with the same results. Breathing in panicked breaths, I try one last time, attempting to phase-freeze the bindings holding me down. Again, nothing happens. A horrible, twisting sensation begins to fill my stomach as a feeling of déjà vu hits me. The twisting only getting worse as I hear the sound of the door screeching open.

“Well, look who’s finally awake,” a familiar, smug voice drawls, and my stomach drops.

Slowly, I turn my head in the direction of the voice and stare at the man that’s entered the room, having slammed the door shut behind him. Mismatched eyes meet my stormy blue ones, and I know that I’m doomed.

_Handsome_ _Fucking_ _Jack__._

Just when I thought I was free, that he was really gone, he just has to show up and ruin everything for me again. It took years to really accept he was dead, and now he’s just standing there in the doorway, with a smirk on his lips and a dark glint in his green and blue eyes.

He looks a little younger somehow, as if he’s actually lost a few years instead of ageing. Though, I suppose if I were to have a new body made, I’d probably make myself the best version possible too. _He looks good for dead psychopath. __I_ _can’t_ _believe_ _the_ _rumours_ _were_ _fucking_ _true__._ Angry tears form in my eyes as I swallow the sob that wants out of my throat. I should have known my freedom was only a temporary thing. From one captor to another, some things never change.

“What? Are you not excited to see me again, pumpkin?” Jack asks. “I was so excited to hear my guys had managed to capture you.”

I stare back in silence, watching as Jack slowly makes his way towards me. I’m not going to chit-chat with my jailer for his amusement. I know the little games he likes to play, and I refuse to play them this time over. I may be his prisoner, but I’m done being his toy.

Seeming undisturbed by my lack of response, or maybe just enjoying his own voice too much to shut up, Jack continues on, “Either my employees are more competent than I give them credit for, or you’ve lost your edge, Kitten.”

I grit my teeth and turn my head away from him defiantly, not rising to his bait. The white wall doesn’t give me much else to focus on, though, and I can’t ignore him as he continues on with his one-sided conversation.

“Lost for words, huh? A lot of people get that way around me, all cute and tongue-tied. I can’t say I blame them, faced with a hero like me, but if I remember correctly, you were always a lot more _vocal_.” The double meaning to his words isn’t lost on me, and I feel my cheeks flush from what I’m telling myself is anger at the memories. Definitely nothing else.

_Deep_ _breaths__. __Deep_ _breaths__._ I tell myself in my head, trying my best to keep my breathing even and controlled.

“Are you really going to make this difficult, after everything we’ve been through, kitten?”

At this I turn back to glare silently at him, however this time as I look at his face I notice there’s something different about it. There are no clasps on his face. He’s not wearing a mask anymore.

_Well,_ _duh,_ _of_ _course_ _he_ _isn’t__._I mentally scold myself for being an idiot. He has no scar to hide anymore on this new body. Just a stupidly handsome face. As much as I hate him, I can admit that at least. He’s stupidly attractive, too bad he’s a sociopathic, narcissistic prick.

His cool fingers graze against my cheek lightly, and I shudder.

“You’re feeling a little hot and bothered, maybe I could....” As he moves his hand down from my face, I launch myself forward as much as the restraints will allow, and bite down hard into the flesh of his palm.

“Motherfuckingbitch!” he yells, yanking his hand from my grip, before slapping it across my face harshly. I blink rapidly, feeling the pain flutter across my skin. “You friggin’ bit me? You’re taking that bandit life thing a little too seriously, princess.”

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” I grind out, choosing as few words as possible to respond. The more I talk, the more ammunition he has against me.

He leans down over me, keeping just out of my teeth’s reach this time, and smirks. “You had a very different reaction the last time I touched you, cupcake. What happened, did you let your siren powers freeze your cunt over since I last saw you?”

I press my lips together. _Don’t_ _react__. __Don’t_ _react__._

“Come on, say something, babe. Surely you missed me a little?”

_The_ _only_ _thing_ _I_ _miss_ _about_ _him_ _from_ _before,_ _is_ _that_ _he’s_ _not_ _dead_ _anymore__._

“Why don’t you just say my name, you were pretty good at that,” he taunts. “Well, pretty good at moaning it anyway.”

“Shut the hell up, Jack,” I snap, unable to stop the words slipping out.

“There we go, was that so hard, pumpkin?” he asks, and I frown, a little confused. He laughs. “Oh my god, do you not even realise you literally just did exactly what I told you to? This is going to be too fucking easy, you’re no fun.”

“What do you want, asshole?” I demand, trying a new tactic, as I clearly can’t bite my tongue around him.

“What makes you think I want something, kitten?”

“I don’t know, Jack. Maybe the fact you had me kidnapped gave it away a little?” I question him back in a sarcastic tone.

“Hey—enough of that sass. I didn’t go through all the trouble of having you brought here to listen to you attempt to be funny.”

“Then why don’t you just tell me why I’m here? Don’t tell me you’re trying to open another vault, figured you’d learn from your own death. Definition of insanity doing the same thing over and…” I trail off, feeling one of his hands rest on my right leg, and freeze, anticipating pain will quickly follow. Instead, he slowly moves his hand up and down my skin, trailing over the blue tattoos covering that leg. He stops where my denim shorts reach down to on my thigh.

“Remember when I made these glow?” he practically purrs.

And I do. You don’t exactly forget the worst day of your life… I shut my eyes again, as a part of the memory flickers through my brain.

_Jack’s hand tightens around my throat, and I struggle against the wall my back is pressed against. Annoyed at my movement, his nails dig roughly into my hip where his other hand is. My eyes flutter shut from the pain and lack of oxygen. Without warning, his grip lets up on my neck, allowing me to suck in some air, just in time for me to gasp as he slams himself into me._

_I wrap my legs around him, eagerly moving in motion with his movements, as he fucks me roughly against the wall of my prison. I should be completely fucking horrified, but as he captures my lips with his own, all I can feel is a burning hunger for more. _

My eyes fly open again, and I glance at Jack who’s watching me curiously.

“Where’d you go there, Kitten?” he asks, sliding his fingertips underneath the fabric of my shorts.

“Get your hands off me,” I growl, wriggling against the table, but it’s not a lot of use, whoever restrained me had done a damn good job. There’s next to no give to move my body away from his touch.

“I will if you answer my question,” he offers after a moment.

“Fine. The day my siren powers started working,” I answer vaguely, praying he’ll keep to his word.

“What about that day?” he presses, moving his hand up higher, getting dangerously close to where he shouldn’t.

“When it happened,” I add, feeling a lump form in my throat.

“Spit it out, Cupcake,” he snaps, scratching his nails into the soft flesh of my inner thigh impatiently.

“When we fucked against the wall,” I whisper, wondering if it was even loud enough for him to hear.

“I think about it too,” he purrs in a seductive tone, however, he does remove his hand as agreed. I let out a long, shaky breath. “Was that really so hard?” he adds in a questioning tone.

“Go take a roll in a ratch nest, asshole,” I snap, feeling a little more confidence return with his hands no longer on me.

“Come on, you’ve gotta admit, it was a pretty good plan of mine. Pain didn’t work, getting you scared or angry was just a fucking waste of time too…” Jack begins.

“Don’t,” I plead, cutting him off as I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying desperately not to think about it.

“You’re not still upset are you?” he asks, running a hand soothingly over my hair.

“Please stop talking.” My voice cracks, and I hate myself a little more. _So fucking pathetic. After everything he did, and this is what breaks me_? I take a breath and try again, hoping to sound a little tougher, “Just shut up, Jack.”

And by some miracle, he does.

His hand doesn’t stop stroking my hair though, and I swear it’s an even worse torture. I’d rather he slapped me again. This reminder of what happened before, how he’d completely wrecked me, and given me the strength to escape him at the same time, I can’t handle it.

Soft lips press against my forehead in a ghost of a kiss, so quick and light I may have imagined it. “I’ll let you get a little more rest, Cupcake. You look like you need it.” His touch is gone, and I listen on edge to his footsteps as he heads for the door.

I clear my throat, wanting to know something before he leaves. “Jack, tell me why I’m here.”

“Here as in this cell, or here in general?” he asks lightly.

“Either. Both?” I question, not really expecting him to answer as I hear the door being opened.

“You’re in this cell because I thought that if I didn’t put you in here, you’d run again.” The light in the cell switches off as he shuts the door behind him, leaving me alone in the darkness to contemplate his strange behaviour.


End file.
